


Bodies on the Battlefield

by Silvergryphon06



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Mild Gore, Reader-Insert, Reader-freeform, Rough Sex, Smut, Tenth class, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvergryphon06/pseuds/Silvergryphon06
Summary: Christ, you had to start sleeping with a sadist, didn’t you?But what did that make you?





	Bodies on the Battlefield

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this. I couldn't NOT write this. I hope it's enjoyed.

Fire exploded behind you as you slid under a hole in the chainlink. Heat washed over your back as you scrambled to your feet, sand and grit tearing into your palms, your gloves lost somewhere in the melee. A chasm gaped ahead of you, too wide to jump and too dangerous to run down when a Pyro was seconds behind you. Darting behind one of the rickety, tin-covered buildings you ran full tilt down the row, eyes flickering everywhere to find somewhere for a route, a hiding spot, an ally, anything.

You spotted it in the low-hanging wire on your left. You might have had less than a minute. Skidding to a stop, you pulled out a small sphere with one hand, the other manipulating the wires with your fingers to touch the tips, check for electricity. Stung, you jerked back with a curse, sucking on your smarting digits as you quickly swiped your good thumb across a button. A spike strip extended at your feet and you swiftly wrapped the wires at one end, the metal touching. With a kick of dirt over the top, you took off again, thanking Engie in the back of your head for that little piece of tech. You’d have to think of something else quick if you didn’t see anything else on the field to--

A faded red cross caught your eye on the other side of the gap, just as you heard the roar of a flamethrower somewhere behind you, followed by a whizz of bullets that picked up the dirt at your heels.

_Fuck!_

You ducked down a narrow alleyway on your left and immediately started crawling upwards, mindful not to get much blood on the metal. You didn’t want to leave a trail, even though you acknowledged that if you missed when you got up there the effort wasn’t going to much matter. Your muscles burned but the adrenaline dulled the sensation. Grunting when you reached the top, you pulled yourself up. The tin buckled dangerously under your weight, creaking and popping in a way that had you cursing. No way someone close wouldn’t have heard that.

So much for stealth.

You unclipped two canisters from your belt as you stood, yanking out the pins with your teeth and tossing them over the side of the roof. Between the hiss of smoke and its choking cover, you hoped nobody would notice which way your footsteps led.

You could hear the yelling below and you counted your steps under your breath, hoping you remembered the right number of them until you reached the other end of the roof. Your hand closed around a cold chain and you almost laughed as you swung, holding it in as your legs dangled in the air, silently thanking the field designer’s foresight of the combatant’s stupidity. Because this was painfully stupid. All of it. But the pay was amazing, you couldn’t have argued that.

At the height of the uptick, you let go, tucking yourself into a tight ball. The air in your lungs left in a painful whoosh as your back slammed onto metal and your limbs flung out of their own accord, probably one of your messiest landings yet, if you didn’t count the ones where you were actually in pieces. You tried not to think too hard on those.

Fighting for breath, you pushed your weary body up again, deep, gushing wheezes that forced oxygen back into your chest as you struggled up to your hands and knees. That red cross was tauntingly close, you could see it at the end of the ridge and you almost toppled off the building to reach the ground again. Your knees took the brunt of the impact and your legs were wobbly when you managed to get back to your feet. Your body was at the tail end of the adrenaline high. You figured you had maybe one more sprint left before you collapsed. Thank god the run was downhill.

Your shoulder rammed into the door, which gave more easily than you were expecting, but maybe if your brain had kicked back into gear, you wouldn’t have landed on your face. Eh, it was what it was. At least the concrete was cold.

Panting, you just let the cold seep into you, just for a minute, your eyes squeezing shut as you finally let yourself take stock of the damage. Most of it was minimal, but you figured you probably had a cracked rib, something broken in your ankle, and what was likely a bit of shrapnel in your back. Overall, you’d had worse. Medic would have you up and back on the field in a few minutes, quick enough for you to even the odds a bit better. The matches had been brutal the past week. You and everyone else on the team were hoping for at least one win before the weekend. Reminding yourself that the sooner you dragged your ass up, the sooner you could help make sure that was going to happen, you pulled yourself up to your elbows with a groan.

That was when you noticed how damned quiet it was. No beeps, no chirps, no feathers, no insane Germans muttering to themselves. The makeshift medbay was empty.

Well, shit.

You crawled to the nearest cart and used it to draw yourself back up to full height, keeping your weight off your bad foot. Maybe there were at least some supplies you could do a patch job until you either found the Medic or respawned. You started to rummage, hunting around for bandages when you heard an all too familiar whine in the air.

Rocket launcher.

Panicked, you dove under the gurney, knowing you were going to wake up in blackness but hoping like hell it didn’t hurt as bad as last time.

Your arms covered your head as the first explosive hit, the impact making your ears ring and rattling your teeth. The second one must have taken out the roof because you could feel something land hard on your back, the weight of it on your bullet wound making you almost scream. Several more slammed into the building, wood snapping and metal shrieking around you as it bent, twisted, and burst apart under the onslaught.

If you managed to make it through respawn in time, you were going to turn that BLU soldier’s intestines into garters.

“Vould you wear zem for me, Maus?” a dark, rich voice asked in your ear.

Ah, so the wreckage on your back could both hear and talk. And also apparently knew the very specific pet name Medic had for you. And also apparently liked to flirt. Good for the wreckage.

You shook your head hard as you shifted and the weight on your back did the same, easing off of you. Hands were on your waist and your shoulder, guiding you to roll over and then arms were scooping you up against something very warm and solid. Then it was gone as quickly as it came and you were hissing as cold metal came in contact with the exposed skin your shredded jacket and shirt couldn’t cover.

“I’m not a mouse,” you groused half-heartedly, too addled and pained to really put up much of a fight in what was a very old argument. “Too loud.”

“Vell, at least you are no longer claiming you are too big.”

You lifted a hand and batted at a broad shoulder, opening your eyes a fraction to take in your rescuer. Medic looked rough. One lens of his glasses was missing and they sat crookedly on his face. There was a bruise blooming on his cheek and his coat, normally bloody, was also singed.

And yet he still struck you as achingly handsome.

“Rough on the back lines too?” you asked, wincing as you shifted your weight and realized your arm felt damp.

“Hmm,” he murmured distractedly, his back to you as he settled the medi-gun in its harness and adjusting its height.

You bit your tongue hard enough to taste blood as you wrenched a sliver of wood two-fingers wide from your forearm. When Medic turned around again, he saw it in your hand and frowned.

You stared at him placidly, tossing the chip to the floor. “Don’t give me that look, you like the sight of blood.” There was no heat in your tone, just matter-of-factness.

He flashed a grin at you and it really should have bothered you more how charming you found it.

“Ja, das stimmt.”

Explosions outside rattled dust from the remaining ceiling, sending it fluttering down in a grey-colored sprinkle. Medic brushed it away from the tools on the small cart he pulled up next to you. A copper tang flooded your nose as his gloved hand firmly gripped your chin. With a click, his small penlight was blinding first one eye, then the other and you blinked back tears.

“I hate that.”

“No concussion, gut,” he muttered, ignoring you.

You shot him a glare. “My head’s fine, just got a broke ankle and something stuck in my back.”

“Vhat kind of physician would I be if my examination was not thorough?” he protested, but you were already turning onto your side, yanking up your clothes to expose the wound.

“The kind you are. Just get this crap out of me so the medi-gun will work and we can get back out there. I want a win today.”

“Verdammte frau,” you heard him swear under his breath and you were glad you were facing away from him so he couldn’t see your tiny smile. You wouldn’t have been able to hide it otherwise.

You had to fight not to arch your back away from the sudden sizzling burn of alcohol being dabbed on the wound.

“Stop squirming!”

“I’m not!” you snapped back.

Either he figured arguing was childish or he wasn’t listening. Then the cold, probing tip of the pliers was burying itself deep into your back and you had to slap your hand around the edge of the gurney with white knuckles and bite down on your sleeve to keep the string of curses from flying out of your mouth. Thankfully, it only took a few moments and then the pain was reduced to a dull throb that mirrored your pulse. You heard Medic hum under his breath as your shoulders slumped, all of the tension draining out of your body. You sighed in satisfaction as something metallic clinked behind you.

You managed to get in one deep breath before you caught sight of something shiny through the massive hole in the wall across from you.

“Shit!”

You rolled backward, tackling Medic around his middle, pulling him down to the floor with you. He hit the floor with a harsh grunt, but you didn’t take the time to look down at him, snatching your pistol out of the holster at your hip as you braced your body over his, taking aim through the legs of the table. A beat of your heart to track the movement and you squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed tinnily in the room, followed by two more deafening bangs as you fired off two more rounds, chuckling with a dark kind of gratification as a scream sharply cut into a dull thump.

You stayed where you were, coiled protectively over Medic as you listened for any further sounds. Without taking your eyes off the break in the wall, you leaned down so that he could hear you whisper.

“We’re gonna have to move.”

He didn’t answer right away and you almost jumped out of your skin when you feel a hand wrap around your waist while another suddenly is cupping the back of your neck. You turned your head to ask him what the hell but then he caught your mouth against his, bucking his hips up into the cradle of yours. He knew exactly how to move. He was already half-hard and the sensation of it rubbing your clit made a soft noise escape your throat. Medic traced your jaw with his thumb, leaving a hot, wet trail of blood on your skin that made you shiver. His grip tightened and you barely noticed the clatter of your gun dropping to the floor as your fingers burrowed trails in his hair. You chased his tongue with your own, loving how he groaned against your lips when you ran your nails over his scalp and ground down on his erection.

It was the sound of an explosion that brought you jerking back away from him.

“We can’t, it’s not safe here.”

You barely had a chance finish the sentence before he rolled you beneath him, mindful of your ankle as the hand on your waist slid down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his hip. His eyes were dark, glittering pools of lapis as he stared hotly down at you.

“Precisely,” he murmured, rolling his hips against your center and your eyes rolled back because fuuuuuck, that was good. His lips were at your ear, growling, “You know vhat it does to me to watch you kill something, Maus.”

Christ, you had to start sleeping with a sadist, didn’t you?

But what did that make you?

Your own grin was wicked as you pressed a soft kiss to that perfect jawline, curling one hand back in his hair to lightly tug. He pulled back to meet your gaze and you lifted your other hand to slowly drag his glasses down the bridge of his nose. “Fix me,” you said. “dann fick mich.”

You were never going to get enough of how much it wrecked him to hear your speak his language, especially when you said it like that.

“Both,” he countered, and he didn’t bother to wait for you to agree or argue, already on his feet and yanking you up to him.

In a blur of motion, he had you sitting back on the gurney, that arm still around your waist to support you as he jerked the medi-gun around in its harness and flicked the switch. Soothing warmth engulfed you both and you damn near melted as you felt bone, sinew, and skin reknit themselves. You wondered how he would react if you told him the way that thing felt was better than sex. Probably do what he was doing now, only he’d ask your opinion later.

Insanity and heat lit up his features, curling his mouth into a pleased, toothy grin that made your clit throb. Your legs automatically lifted to sling around his hips as your nails dug into his shoulders. With a growl of your own, you yanked on the lapels of Medic’s coat and pulled his face down to yours, his lips already parted for you to explore his mouth with your tongue. Your toes curled in your boots as he returned the kiss with an eagerness that bordered on savagery. One gloved hand fisted in your hair while the other raked up the curve of your waist, your torso, up until rubber fingers closed lightly around the side of your neck.

You swore you could feel every bunch of muscle under the layers he wore, burning your hands. You could feel his breath on your neck, his nose bumping the soft skin under your ear and sweet Jesus--

“Say it again.”

His voice was a debauched rumble, his accent thick with desire. You could feel it hard and hot at the juncture of your thighs and you ground against it.

The words rolled off your tongue as you leaned forward to lick a stripe across his bottom lip. “Fick mich.”

He bent down to catch your mouth again with a groan. You reveled in the noise your movements drug from his chest. You couldn’t help it; insanity was an infection and you could feel its reckless fire running under your skin like molten metal, twining lust and madness together until you stopped caring about anything other than the throbbing between your legs.

He tasted like menthol, cool and a little sweet. Your fingers cradled his jaw, caressing, stroking, reveling in the rough stubble tickling your palms before you hands rose higher to burrow in his hair, anchoring him in place. Not that he seemed to have any plans to go anywhere. It didn’t register that your back was on the table until the cold metal on your skin made your back arch. Breaking away from his addictive mouth, you let your head fall back with a hiss and he took the opportunity to trail tongue-flicked kisses down the side of your neck to suck a dark spot just on your pulse point. Your lungs ached for air, but you couldn’t quite catch enough. Your hands pushed at his coat, tugged at the sleeves and he flailed for only a moment before the offending garment was tossed to the floor at his feet. His gloves went right after. Braced over you on one elbow, his other hand, large and so, so warm, wormed under your shirt, ripping the hem out from where it had been tucked into your sensible pants. Goosebumps trailed after his fingertips, cheap, tiny buttons popping at his impatience to feel your skin.

You gave as good as you got, wriggling your hands between the two of you to simultaneously work at his belt buckle and dip your fingers under his vest and shirt to rake your nails through the coarse hair that covered his stomach. He shuddered over you, German was breathed into your skin but you didn’t have the presence of mind to comprehend it. His thumb had found a nipple through your bra and was rolling across the tender flesh as wet bruises blossomed across your throat, down the angles of your collarbones towards newly exposed skin.

His hips jerked abruptly as you managed to undo his belt with one hand. “Clever maus,” he chuckled throatily, then hissed in a breath when your hand wrapped around his erection and lightly squeezed.

Running your palm against the hot flesh, you looked up at him as his head reared back to give you a heavy-lidded stare and you loved how absolutely unhinged he looked with his perfect hair mussed and his glasses askew. You lifted your own to run your tongue against his bottom lip and your thumb over the head of his cock, whispering, “Fick mich.”

You knew your smile was as crazed as his and without warning you were being lifted again and then flipped over, your hands slapping against the gurney. Your shirt gapes open, framing your breasts as you lean over the wooden surface, eagerly following the nudged instruction of his foot and spreading your legs further apart. In one heart-stuttering movement, he had ripped your pants and undergarments down your legs. His chest was a warm, solid weight at your back as one hand comes down beside yours, his free hand unerringly finding your clit and swiping his thumb across it.

Your arms gave out and your head dropped down to the gunreturned with a groan because god that felt so much better than your own hand. Hips rocking back, you chased the sensation, the tight curl of orgasm already coiling in your belly. He pushed himself up and his hand slid around your thigh to slip two broad fingers down your slit, his voice in your ear as he easily slid them into your slickness, telling you how pretty your cunt was, how warm and tight and how much he wanted to run his tongue through your sweetness and every word and curl of his fingers was another intense wave of pleasure.

You stuttered over his name, nearly howled when he withdrew his fingers because you were that close, but then you felt the blunt tip of his cock gliding through your folds, bumping your clit and you found that you could forgive him for it. He didn’t ask if you were ready; he just flexed his hips and was sliding inside you with a satisfying stretch of your walls that had you almost sobbing, it felt so damn good.

“Scheiße!” he rasped, his forehead dropping to rest against your spine when he was fully sheathed and the strained curse would have pleased you if he actually was fucking you like you asked the bast--

One hand closed around your hip, gripping you hard enough to bruise while the other pushed your bra out of the way to pluck at your nipple. You could feel the flutter build into a pulse as he withdrew only to slam back inside, making your muscles clench greedily around him and both of you groan. Then it’s all lost in sensation. In just a few thrusts, Medic has wrapped an arm around your hips and yanks you upright, one hand still playing with your nipple while the other dives between your legs to rub at your clit. Your arms reach up and back to wrap around his neck for balance, your legs struggling to widen enough to give him the room to move. His thrusts are shallower at this angle, but it hardly mattered because you’re so wound up that you knew you were only a couple of heartbeats from cumming.

Then you were riding the crest of that wave, your orgasm rolling through your body, molten and consuming. You dropped your upper body to the gurney and Medic bent over your back, his tongue slick and hot where it traced the curve of your spine. The hand playing with your breast splayed over your breastbone, stroking up to your throat, up to your mouth. Two fingers pushed past your lips and you could still taste yourself on them. You ran your tongue across the calloused pads and then sucked hard, mimicking the flexing of your cunt around him. He only lasted for a few more thrusts and then he pulled back and you released his fingers with a wet pop. You angled your head to watch him over your shoulder, watching as he ruthlessly stroked his cock, snarling as he came in his hand.

Blowing through his nose like a bull, he leaned heavily against you again and you let yourself savor it for one long moment. His lips ghosted across your shoulder, his teeth grazing the tender skin and you hummed in satisfaction. His hand cupped your chin, brushing his lips over yours with a deep rumble in his chest that you felt more than heard. It was about as peaceful as anything ever got in your life.

“Wanna watch me kill some more?” you asked with a smirk. His leer was intensely gratifying. You bumped his ear with your nose, whispering a filthy promise that made his cock twitch against your thigh.

With a muttered curse, he kissed you hard once, his arm reaching up to turn the medi-gun’s warm healing off. “I vill hold you to zhat, Maus.”

Your laughter followed him as you bent to pick up your discarded gun, the click an appropriate echo as you checked the chamber. You knew sleeping with a sadist made you the same damned thing.


End file.
